Saw It All
by Veterization
Summary: WARNING: Slash. Shortish oneshot L/Matsuda Aizawa saw all of the touches, all of the glances, all of the subtext between L and Matsuda. So he confronts them. He wishes he hadn't.


_Disclaimer_: I do not own Death Note.

Shuichi Aizawa had seen it all.

He saw all of Matsuda's discreet touches. He saw all of the practically extinct smiles that L always intended to be private. He saw all the slight cronyism Matsuda took to pleasing L more than the rest of the task force. He saw all of the coy glances that caused Matsuda's cheekbones to flush carmine and his lips to sport a goofy smile for the next few hours. Aizawa knew what was happening from the moment Matsuda had clumsily spilled coffee in L's lap and cleaned it off his jeans.

Much more thoroughly than the stain needed to be cleaned.

Aizawa had blinked in astonishment to make sure his eyes weren't failing him, but the damage had been done. The wonderment and suspicion were no longer signs of paranoia, but downright symptoms of a highly inappropriate relationship.

Surprisingly enough, it wasn't the emotionless L being tangled headfirst into a relationship that shocked Aizawa. It wasn't the ridiculously tactless and vacuous Matsuda claiming a partner for a substantial period of time either. It was the combination of the utter genius with the carefree teddy-bear-replicate that truly flummoxes Aizawa.

He knew that Matsuda had always harbored a deep respect for L, wanting to impress him, wanting to flaunt his wishy-washy skills in front of him, and wanting to be preferred over the rest of the task force. But his methods in seeking attention from the insomniac were always gauche and foolish. His attempts in capturing L's eyes were better described as childish gaffes rather than notable performances.

And L was a man that, in all of his lifetime, only ever had one companion commit to his side. And Watari barely qualified as a friend, but rather as a butler-like assistant that occasionally showed his face to drop off sugary sweets. All of L's idiosyncrasies were barely human, all irking and ineffably exasperating to any creature that spent more than an hour attached to his side.

The pair was, vaguely described at best, an odd couple.

They were opposite sides of the spectrum. Their attitudes were dramatically polarized and their mindsets were undeniably diverse mindsets. If society had been watching the pair's relationship as an audience in front of a TV screen, they would have most surely deemed the relationship the two detectives possessed unbelievable.

Aizawa typed nonsense into his keyboard, his eyes flickering over his shoulder to where Matsuda and L were mumbling in hushes.

He frowned.

Aizawa had always considered himself to be an intellectually above-average man with good enough observation skills to land him in the police force. But it peeved his brain to know that he hadn't figured out the secrets behind the obvious excess communication that remained poorly hidden between L and Matsuda earlier.

Gentle subtext, vague but not entirely unnoticeable hints, Aizawa's examination skills helped him notice the traces of tactlessness and surmise facts to the slightly nauseating deduction of L and Matsuda were clearly involved in a romantic sense. Aizawa wrinkled up his nose and tapped his forefinger on his keyboard in a nonexistent rhythm.

He contemplated if Matsuda's distractions on L's mind would perhaps delay the progress on the Kira case, a scowl on his face at the prospect of letting Kira slip through his fingers because of his coworker's uncontrollable hormones.

But then again, Aizawa was still blissfully unaware of some of the details that surrounded their hushed relationship, such as how long the two had been dallying with each other or how serious their intentions were.

But before conclusions were to be unfairly drawn, Aizawa decided to settle the affair in the simplest way he knew, and no matter how degrading it was to his narcissism, he would prove himself wrong.

L was at the bottom of the evolution chain. His lack of humanity and complete and utter stoic attitude seemed to point in the direction of asexuality. Matsuda, too, wouldn't go far enough to pleasure L physically to get the attention he pleaded for. He seemed like the man who knew his limits and knew not to cross the strict lines drawn around him restricting his actions.

With the reassuring thought of there being falsity in his mental accusation to the two men, Aizawa marched down the hall to L's room in to the hope of being able to converse with the detective about his suspicions.

The second he opened the ajar door to hell, he knew there was no turning back.

Aizawa's lip curled, his cheeks morphing into a sharooshing shade of green.

"Dear god," he muttered, one of his palms instantly curtaining his eyes from the sight before him. A boxer-clad Matsuda curled into an equally near-naked L as though he was a newborn kitten seeking out its mother's warmth, a few noises of satisfaction escaping his lips. It was enough of an image to damage Aizawa's previously sanitized brain.

L stared up impassively from his task of smoothing a few stray ebony strands away from Matsuda's forehead and smoothing them back, placing a thumb between his lips at the sight of Aizawa. If he was stunned or offended that Aizawa had ambled in so aimlessly upon the two of them without a hint of a warning alarming Matsuda and L of his presence, L's expression remained cool and collected.

"Does Aizawa-san need something?"

Aizawa ground his teeth together. If his tongue had been trapped in between his incisors, he would not doubt their ability to saw off half off the muscle with their suppressed strength.

"I did not need to see this. _Nobody_ at the task force needs to see this," Fingers still pressed tightly together in an almost hermetic seal as they shielded Aizawa's haunted eyes from the train wreck he had had the misfortune of laying his eyes upon earlier, Aizawa grumbled under his breath.

"No, they do not. It is not exactly something I am keen on showcasing either." L responded impassively, resuming his task in stroking Matsuda's bangs in between his thumb and forefinger lazily.

"I am a little miffed, Ryuzaki." Aizawa confessed, a steady scowl forming on his face.

"Miffed?" L parroted dully, "No. Aizawa-san is not miffed."

The older man growled. He ground his teeth harder, almost expecting for ivory dust to fall off of his teeth at his aggressiveness.

"I believe I am the decider of that."

"Aizawa-san is only jealous that he and his wife are not as cute as this."

His fingers fanning out to open pockets for viewing the scene before him, Aizawa's scowl deepened, creasing a wrinkle into his forehead. He stared at L in disbelief.

"Ryuzaki–"

"Aizawa-san knows how much Matsuda-san and I adore his company," L drawled, his thumb slipping from his mouth and crawling up Matsuda's thigh to rest on his hip, "but I would prefer were he to take his leave."

L's subtle methods of requesting for the man to leave the two detectives alone was not very ambiguous. Within moments L's seemingly rock-solid patience shattered and with a shrug as Aizawa's feet remained motionless and his eyes blinked at the scene before him, L leant down and promptly latched his lips onto Matsuda's in a gentle effort to wake up the slumbering man.

Aizawa's brain was almost astonished that he _had_ in fact been right with his assumptions. L's mouth was secured on Matsuda's much like it was a sugary sweet presented before him, and as the older man was finally pulled from his light sleep, his eyes blinking in shock by the unexpected pressure on his lips, he too kissed back. Both men were all of a sudden seemingly unaware of Aizawa's very heavy presence.

"I. I, uh."

He darted from the room with a surprising lack of professionalism and left the two men to their own activities. His eyes were as wide as tree trunks as he scurried wordlessly back to his desk, Mogi giving him a cumbersome glance at the way Aizawa was displaying uncharacteristic urgency.

Sometimes, Aizawa wished he _wasn't_ right.

_AN_: You know who it's for.

I didn't proofread this, no time. I'll probably go back over it in a day or so and fix any mistakes.


End file.
